


I Kissed Your Lips (and Enjoyed the Taste of You)

by Waynesgrayson (orphan_account)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Graphic Description, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Nightmares, Sexual Content, Violence, Will Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 20:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2201424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Waynesgrayson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I won't lose you because Jack is foolish enough to keep you on this case.” His tone was sharp, and dangerous, but it only made Will want to close the gap between them and sooth the older man until he had nothing to doubt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Kissed Your Lips (and Enjoyed the Taste of You)

**Author's Note:**

> "When is a monster not a monster?  
> Oh, when you love it. "  
> \--  
> For my sanity:  
> All present moments are in order.  
> All past moments are not. The past scenes regarding Hannibal and Will do jump around a lot, please keep that in mind.  
> Also, Will and Hannibal have been together for quiet some time.

He got out of the car slowly, shutting the door as quietly as he could. No one came to greet him, and no one called for his attention. Hannibal began to walk up the path that connected to his home, he noticed that not one officer was stationed outside. Not even a cruiser patrolling the street. As if they'd been called off the night, or called in for something more immediate. 

He stood back for a moment, his eyes scouting the house and taking in it's peaceful looking appearance. He sighed into the cold air, his breath coming out in a white puff, he briefly wondered if they could expect snow.

Hannibal frowned, wondering why the air was still and quiet, left untouched by the blaring sounds of sirens and screeching tires. His frown deepened as he walked the porches steps and found the door wide open, glass scattered along the stone. He stood in the doorway, slowly dragging his gaze inside.

It wasn't unusual for Hannibal to stay late due to an emergency client check up. He prided himself in the way he was dedicated to his patients on and off the clock. One call was all that was needed to drag him out of his current situation, and to the doorstep of those who need his help.

Tonight was no exception. One of his clients – a Marcus Jones – was coming along beautifully in his slow, yet progressive recovery from drug abuse, and before Hannibal could even close the doors to his practice, his phone went off, and moments later, he was driving away for Marcus's home.

Marcus was thinking of relapsing.

And that wouldn't do.

After a while by the mans side, talking in low tones with a careful air, Hannibal was able to get him to the hospital, and receive proper care.

On the drive home, he had entertained thoughts of a quiet night in. Of sitting down with a good book or a glass of wine, his fingers carding through soft brown locks and kissing the warm and inviting feel of sun kissed skin.

None of that would happen tonight.

He made his way inside and frowned at the persistent chill the air gave. He walked down the hallway, taking his time and soaking in his surroundings. While the dark colours that blended together into a delicate bouquet of muted tones; the framed paintings and trinkets that alined the walls and shelves lay still; and the soft and welcoming feel of his home was all too familiar, it was different in every way.

Each door along the hall was open, as were the windows inside, the curtains fluttering in and settling before the next wind disturbed the fabric, shards of glass decorated the floors and crunched under the mans weight. Hannibal paused at the dinning room and peered inside. The table was dressed, almost in the exact fashion it would be for a dinner party, cutlery and plates all laid out, a centre piece gleaming under the lights glow. But it went barely noticed, his attention was on the floor, and the papers and pens scattered along it.

The only sound in the house was his steps and the wind kissing the curtains, and that bothered him more deeply than he cared to admit.

He knew both men were here, but if Will was unharmed Hannibal would have known about it already, for the man would have rushed to the driveway the moment Hannibal's vehicle pulled in.

Hannibal walked around to the side of the table usually occupied by Will and his papers. In the empaths place, he found a cell phone. Will's cell phone. It was facing up, the screen black as it lay on the table.

Hannibal picked it up, observing it for a moment before pressing it on. The screen lit up to show it was on his and Will's chat, and at the bottom of the screen was a message not yet sent:

_Someone's breaking in, hurry._

Hannibal's jaw tensed, and in his flash of anger, was about to slam the phone down when it started to buzz. He answered it, not inquiring as to who it was, he didn't say anything at all.

“We're in the study, darling.” a male voice sang down the line.

The man hung up and Hannibal walked.

**

Will stood silently in the middle of the warehouse. The forensic team bustled around him with their necessary tools made to pack up and transport the crime scene. Some shouting and commanding things, passing on every new discovery to the man standing behind him. Every few seconds the snap of a camera blared in the walls of his mind, accompanied by the concerned looks of those few who cared enough to notice his distress.

His part was done.

He was no longer required at this scene, but he found he couldn’t move his feet from where he stood in front of their latest victim.

Their victim, like all the others before, was seated in a wooden chair, limbs tied to the arms and legs of the chair, dried blood surrounding the cuts made from their attempt at escape. His head was thrown back, mouth opened wide in a look of shock. And Will knew how bad the shock was, for the victim sat with a knife imbedded in his stomach, his internal organs pooling out and resting in his lap.

And this victim, like all the others before, resembled Will Graham down the blue iris's and the trimmed to the bone finger nails.

“I'm going to station a few officers outside your house until we catch this bastard.” Jack said over his shoulder, Will turned his head to the side, acknowledging the man. It didn't take a man with high levels of empathy to realize the obvious threat in this killers work. The almost startling resemblance. Every time he entered the mans head, it was as if Will was being forced to kill himself, over and over, each kill leaving him more shaken then the last.

His next words were softly spoken, as if speaking to a startled child. Most of the people who knew about the shift in his and Hannibal's relationship didn't seem to mind it. When Jack found out the news, he didn't say anything at first. A look of disapproval was all Will received, and he briefly wondered if Jack would leave the subject alone.

Will had felt the wrath later when he found himself alone with the detective. Lectures of irresponsibility and recklessness behaviour were fired off as Will sat still, his thoughts uncaring of what the other man thought. Quietly he had stood, and walked out the door, murmuring about taking a few days off.

Jack called not even a day later, his voice gruff and authoritative, yet calm as he asked for Will's presence at a crime scene.

The first scene of the killer who was yet to be christened a name by the public.

“I'm staying with Hannibal.”

He heard the other man sigh, his never ending dislike of the situation obvious and annoying, but the man held his tongue, for which Will was glad.

“Then I will have officers on watch at Doctor Lecter's home.”

“Thank you.”

 

It was as if he was staring back into a mirror, his own face sullen and dark in it's reflection. But it did not move like him, the mirror took on a life of it's own, twisting it's -no, _his-_ features in mock and horror. Switching from his reality and the one it - _he_ \- chooses to create. In his presence was a field of bloodied bodies, piled one on top of the other. Will was certain it was made to touch the Heavens. Made for the Heavens. A sacrifice.

“ _Will_.” the voice sang to him, it was his he knew, but it sounded wrong. Maybe it was because he couldn't speak at all, couldn’t return the voices call, his voice nothing more than a crisp breeze, light and gone. He could only sit and take what was to come.

Sitting.

He was sitting. The position, all too familiar. He was strapped to the wooden structure, his limbs held tightly in place, blood marking his skin as he attempts to move. He looks up at a sound of disapproval. He looks into his own eyes, and can't find it in himself to be surprised. After all, it's always him holding the rope.

He looks into his eyes, and he is scared, but that's okay. The man who bears his face brushes the tears off his face and licks the salty water off his finger tips, and smiles. When did he start crying?

“ _Will_.”

The knife seems to glow in the dark, its shine sparking off the only dim light the room has to offer. It brushes the fabric of his shirt, pricking his skin until finding its desired spot. The man holding it hums, the tune is sweet, but his voice is rough. It could have been comforting.

“ _William_.

The pain that blossoms in his body is terrifying, but he welcomes it. It feels familiar and for that he is glad. The man is still humming as he turns the blade, cutting him open. Will would make a sound if he could, but all he can do is open his mouth in attempt. He looks away from the man and at the pile of bodies surrounding them. The ones that seem to touch the sky. Touch a new life.

As blood gurgles in his throat and drips down his mouth, he notices all the bodies bear his face. Blue eyes seeing nothing, brown curls gleaming with blood. He's just another sacrifice.

He closes his eyes and allows the mans song to take him.

“William!”

His eyes flew open and met black. He gasped out at the surprise and found his vocal chords in perfect working order. Will could feel the sweat that drenched his skin, causing his shirt to stick to him like a second skin, his hair plastered to his forehead and temple. Right away he became painfully aware of how uncomfortable he was. He made a move to sit up, but hands held him in place.

Right.

Somehow, despite being locked in his gaze, Will had forgotten about the other man. He breathed deeply and tired to focus his mind on Hannibal.

Hannibal.

The black orbs faded into their usual red.

“Hannibal, I need to change.” was what Will meant to say, and was quite certain he did, but when Hannibal removed one of his hands from Will's wrists and cupped his face, Will had a feeling nothing but unintelligible blabber came out instead.

Hannibal didn't say anything, and he didn't have to. His concern was evident, even if his face seemed to be frozen in a frown. Will closed his eyes as two hands curled their way into his hair, cupping the back of his head. Then he was breathing onto Hannibal's neck, his nose brushing the dip of his ear and jaw. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Hannibal's back, clinging to the man above him as if he would float away without him.

And he knew, in the back of his mind, that he would.

**

Hannibal opened the study door and took in the sight before him. A man was sitting in Hannibal's usual seat, though it was moved and placed in line of the door. From what Hannibal could see, the rest of the study was left untouched. His papers still stacked on his desk, the books holding its place along the many shelves. Everything in place.

The man was looking him, his eyes, deep brown and bright, held a mischievous gleam one would associate with a child who believes they've out smarted their parents. Hannibal wanted to rip at his features until his eyes were left bloody and unseeing, but it seemed as if Will had beaten him to it. The man looked worse for wear. His shirt torn open, patches of blood pooled through the fabric. Deep gashes were visible from the tears in the his shirt, his skin mangled and raw, and along his cheek, was a long gash, red and angry. He looked like a man who barely survived a wild animal attack, and the dark glint in his eyes suggested he was in a mood to gloat about his fools fight.

Hannibal allowed the thought of Will defending himself with such ferocity to wash over him, giving comfort like warm water on tense muscle after a long day.

“Hello, Hannibal.” the man in front of him said, his voice high and full of excitement, reminding Hannibal again of a child, “My name's Morgan. It's nice to finally meet you.”

Hannibal walked over slowly from the doorway, his eyes locked into the mans in front of him.

“Why don't you sit down.” Morgan said, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

Despite his minds resistance, Hannibal took his seat, not allowing his eyes to waver to the other in the room. Not allowing his eyes to rest on Will.

 

Once upon a time this was something he had wanted, to hold the agent close as he stole his life, to take satisfaction in his pain as ocean eyes pleaded, mouth uttering nothing but incoherent babble, incapable of anything more as blood dripped down his chin to the floor. Staining Hannibal with his blood.

But his feelings changed.

He knew the change was gradual and over time. Thought when he found himself missing the empath while he was away for cases, wanting his company at dinner every night, and enjoying the feel of the man in his bed, he knew Will was to stay.

Those feelings, he decided, were there the moment he met Will Graham all those years ago. Faint, and below every surface he kept hidden, even ones he believed he burned down almost a lifetime ago. Though there was no mistaking the way he felt.

He had fallen in love.

It had left him in a panic at the start of his discovery. Will was a smart man. Hannibal had never doubted his intelligence, quite the opposite. He acknowledged it openly, and encouraged it's progress,. He was always impressed and intrigued by the younger mans mind. He often wondered how Will had no idea who he spent his time with, who he shared his secrets and fears with, his most intimate moments with. He wondered if Will had already knew the truth, the ugly secret kept hidden in his heart under a plaid lock.

But Hannibal doubted it. The man was too open for that.

He decided that if the agent were to find out, he'd let Will walk out of his life quietly, and he would never look back.

It would hurt him of course, seeing the only light in his life flicker out, engulfing him in a smoke of broken trust. But Hannibal, as much as he was cruel and cold, was human. He had weaknesses, and his was a heart of gold and a broken soul. Will was beautiful, and Hannibal couldn't be so selfish as to rob the world of such a jewel.

No.

The man would live. No matter the pain.

**

“Hannibal I can't quit, you know that.” Will sighed. They've been arguing over the matter for what felt like hours. Will wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and forget about the entire case, if only for a moment, but it seemed like Hannibal had other ideas. He stood away from Will. Will wasn't sure why, he didn't want to think it was because of the mans anger towards him. That it was so great that he had to physically distance himself to ensure no harm would be done. Though Will doubted Hannibal could do anything to him even if he tried. He was too far under the doctors skin, and both men knew it.

“I won't lose you because Jack is foolish enough to keep you on this case.” His tone was sharp, and dangerous, but it only made Will want to close the gap between them and sooth the older man until he had nothing to doubt.

“You won't lose me, Hannibal, okay? I'm not helpless, I can protect myself.”

Hannibal sighed at that. His hands coming up to rest on his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply, “I know you are more than capable-”

“Then let me do this.”

“I can't.”

“Hannibal-”

“No, Will. I cannot allow you to put your life on the line like this. I can barely handle turning on the news and seeing the dead face of some man who looks too much like you. I don't know what I'd do if one day it does turn out to be you.”

Will stood still, his eyes wide. He found his heart beating out of control, like it was trying to burst out and escape to the other man. So Will did what it couldn't, and slowly walked to the other man. Will wasn't sure if the older man would allow his touch, but he brought it anyway, his arms curling around the mans waist, his head rested on his chest.

It should have discouraged Will that it took Hannibal longer than usual to return the embrace, but the empath kept his grip steady and strong, and soon the other man found he couldn't hold his resolve anymore. Hannibal held him close, his nose buried in Will's curls, breathing his scent in.

“I'm sorry,” Will said, “But I have to catch this man before he hurts anyone else.”

“I know.”

“The men he kills hold my face, and I can't help but feel responsible for what's happening to them. So I have to. I'm sorry, Hannibal, but I have to.”

Hannibal didn't say anything, just held onto Will until the mans heart slowed, and the sun dipped below the horizon.

**

“He's so beautiful.” Morgan said, his fingers carding through Wills small curls, twirling them around his blood stained fingers, “Don't you agree?”

His eyes met Hannibal's.

Hannibal could almost feel the power the man thought he had. The confidence came off in thick tendrils, clouding around the man and threatening to choke anyone close.

“It's a shame, really. What I would have _gived_ to have him,” the man laughed loud, the sound obnoxious and sickening to Hannibal's ears as it bounced around the walls of his mind.

“You sure know how to pick them,” he said, cocking his head to the side, his gaze still locked into Hannibal's, a grin teasing his lips, “Smart, strong, young, and oh so _beautiful_ ,” his last words were nothing more then a whisper as he looked away, his eyes on Will, taking him in in such a way that Hannibal often did. As if he were stuck in a trance as he took in the beauty that is Will, as if trying to comprehend how lucky he is to have him.

It happened often. Whenever caught, Hannibal would simply devour the flush that crept along Wills skin, relishing in the mans shy laughs.

He watched as the man tilted his head, as if curious about something. The gaze kept for another moment before he leaned down to Will's face, and licked a strip up his neck and cheek, collecting any beads of sweat and blood along its path.

Hannibal had no idea he possessed such patience.

He was slow to move back, but soon Hannibal found himself on the receiving end of the curious eyes. The pupils now blown wide. But there was something else forming in them, a look of realization and awe starting the bloom along the mans features.

“And delicious too,” he said, his speech now slow, “How do you control yourself?”

Hannibal could almost hear the gears grinding away in Morgans mind, how the puzzle piece clicked into place. Morgan wasn't a stupid man, one can't be to do what he does, and Hannibal would have been foolish to underestimate the man.

But Hannibal couldn't decide which the man was yet, a fool for recognizing the hunter in his presence, or smart for just that fact.

“I didn't.”

Morgan huffed a laugh, he looked at Hannibal with some disbelief, “Come now, Hannibal, you know what I mean. It's not proper to play with your food.”

“The boy is not food.”

“No, he's not,” Morgan's voice softened a little, his eyes leaving Hannibal's as he chewed his lower lip. He looked deep in thought.

“Is he.”

Hannibal felt his jaw tighten , his teeth grinding together as his mind processed the man. His eyes didn't tell him anything he didn't already know from the case and Will's observations. In truth, he already knew the man inside out. It was now just a matter of getting him that way.

**

The first time Will voiced his love for him, he whispered the words into the little space they allowed with their bodies intertwined. His brain didn't stop, or slow. He didn't feel anything other than his heart pick up, the sound of rushing blood filling his ears and awakening his system. He had smiled and cupped the younger mans face, kissing him long and slow, “Say it again.”

Will eyes shone, a smile split his face and he attempted to hide it in the older mans neck. It had made Hannibal smile, “Say it again, Will.”

A moment passed before Will turned back to him, face slightly red from his blush, “I love you.”

“Again.” he kissed the man.

“I love you.”

“Will.”

“I love you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will and turned them so he could pull the empath flush against him, peppering his face with slow kisses until Will squirmed in his grip, his laugh filling Hannibal with a joy that sent sparks throughout his body. When he stopped, Will grinned down at him, his hair falling in front of his eyes, a look Hannibal found endearing. He kissed the man again, and when they parted Hannibal smiled.

“Aš tave myliu, Will.”

**

“So I'm right about you,” Morgan said, pointing a finger at him, “Aren't I?”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow as if to say, _go on._ Morgan continued speaking, “I looked into you as well, Doctor Lecter. A count, a psychiatrist, a well respected man,” the glint in his eyes growing as his excitement built, “But you're not what you seem.”

Hannibal clenched his jaw and fought the urge to roll his eyes,“ You're not the calm and professional person everyone believes you are. You're a predictor,” His face split into a grin, “Like me.”

“I can assure you, Morgan, you and I are nothing alike.”

Morgan continued on, ignoring Hannibal's statement. His eyes once again focused on Will with an intensity that would have suggested a lover under very different circumstances. His face bloomed with a fresh wave of red, sweat trickling down his own temples and splashing onto the ruined shirt.

“The first time I saw his picture,” he paused to licked his lips, Hannibal couldn't help the twist of his mouth, his stoic expression melting into that of disgust, “I never thought something so wonderful could exist.” Morgan kept his voice calm, and quiet. Soothing, like he was lulling a child to sleep.

“I have Miss Freddie Lounds to thank for that. With her nose up everyone’s ass, it wasn't hard to find out who this mysterious Will Graham was. The man who could see it all.” Again the man tilted his head to the side, tearing his eyes away from Will and placing them in Hannibal's gaze.

At the start of Will's consultations with the FBI, Jack had promised that he would be safe, both inside and outside of his work. While the man's promise only went so far and for so long, Jack did indeed keep Will's face away from the presses hands, television media and print alike.

But there was nothing one could do about the infamous Freddie Lounds.

Hannibal did have to give her credit in areas of creativity and skill. The way she could get what she needed, when she needed it, getting it all done as subtlety as possible.

In her own way, Freddie is an artist, and one must recognize a fellow expert.

“Do you believe in love at first sight, Doctor?”

**

Hannibal pulled up into Will's driveway late that night. Hannibal had brought breakfast in the morning, for he had planned on spending some time with the man before Will had to leave for the Bureau. What seemed like minutes into his visit, they found they had to cut their morning short, both receiving calls from Jack, their presence needed. 

Hannibal had insisted on them both taking his car, and that he'd ensure the empath returned home in the evening.

When the car came to a halt, Will took off his seat belt, and looked over at Hannibal.

“Thank you.”

“It was no trouble, Will.” Hannibal said, his voice quiet, he couldn't deny, thoughts of sleep were not far from his mind. It had been a rather long day.

Hannibal, to this day, had no memory of if he saw it coming. He had to admit the action was a surprise to him, he wasn't often caught off guard, but then again, Will did have that power over him.

He wasn't prepared for the brunet to lean forward and capture his lips in a kiss so innocent Hannibal swore he could have burst into flames and be washed pure of his sins then and there.

Will's hands came up and captured his face, deepening the kiss ever so slightly, as if inspired by the other mans rather eager reaction.

While the kiss was nothing short of beautiful in Hannibal's mind, Will ended it, his smile shy.

Hannibal found, as he looked into curious blue eyes, he had nothing to say. It was as if Will sucked the breath out of him, and left him with nothing.

Will smiled at Hannibal's dazed expression and pecked his lips one more time before opening up the car door, and stepping out, “Good night, Hannibal.”

Hannibal watched as the other man disappeared behind the safety of his home, his eyes wide in disbelief and awe. He couldn't help himself from reaching up to touch his lips, his tongue dragging along the surface in an attempt to capture Will's taste.

He never knew a single kiss could scatter the brain into such a frenzy, but by the time he crossed the threshold of his own home, Hannibal knew Will was something to worry about. 

**

The silence that followed was deafening. Hannibal could hear the quiet breaths from Will, his body pale and bloody. If Hannibal didn't know any better, he would have guessed the man was dead he was so still, his features unmoving, not even a twitch to away his status.

Morgan sighed, “No matter.” and curled his arms under Will, picking his limp frame off his lap and standing. He held Will out slightly away from his body, like he was offering the man over, he smiled at Hannibal, one he's seen himself do in the past, one that spoke of ill intentions and disaster, “Dinner?”

And just like that, the wall between them fell.

“You do not eat your victims.”

“No,” Morgan said, his voice thoughtful, “But you do.”

Hannibal stood, and turned his back on the man and his lover, and wordlessly lead them to the dinning room.

**

“Are you all right?” The words snapped Hannibal out of his revive and into the present. Currently he stood in his kitchen, apron tied tightly around his waist, knife in hand, Will at his side. He looked over at the man to meet eyes filled with worry. When they had first gotten together and broke down some of each others barriers, the expression startled him. He wasn't use to seeing eyes hold such tenderness towards him, but he soon embraced the oceans calm. Willing to drown in the waves that caressed and loved.  
“I'm fine.”

Will's look of worry instantly bubbled into incredulous disbelief, “Han. You were looking at that lung like it personally assaulted you-,” Will stopped, his eyes turned upwards in thought, “But then again,” he smiled, “I have no idea how you got that lung. For all I know the person who owned it _did_ assault you,” he smiles, “It's okay now, it can't hurt you.”

“Teasing won't get you what you seek.” Hannibal said, pointing his knife at the other man, his tone light.

Will laughed through his nose, the sound breathy and short. A moment passed and once again Hannibal felt the other mans gaze on his cheek.

“Are you sure nothing's wrong? You can tell me you know.”

“That, I am aware of, Will.”

“Then why won't you tell me?”

Hannibal couldn’t deny the spark of annoyance that flared in his stomach. He knew Will was only worried, and, if nothing, a little curious. It was nothing terrible. But he wished Will would leave him to his immensely undesired thoughts.

“Later, Will.”

The other man looked at him as though he didn't believe him. Hannibal resisted the urge to sigh,

“I promise, later.”

 

A quiet knock on the study door was all the warning he received before Will walked inside. Hannibal looked up from his work, and couldn't help but smile at the sight Will made. Will was handsome in every aspect to the man, especially when sleep overtook his features, softening his face, the way his eyelids drooped lazily, allowing his eyelashes to kiss his cheeks giving him a look of pure innocence. The sight always caused something stir inside of Hannibal, making him want to run his fingers through the clean and ruin Will until his body was flush and awake under his hands.

Hannibal reached out and took one of Will's hands, squeezing it as Will dropped a kiss a top his head, “Almost done?” Will placed his free hand on Hannibal's shoulder, squeezing the muscle before rubbing it, Hannibal smiled up at him in appreciation, and released his other hand so Will could rub the other shoulder.

“Almost.”

Hannibal thought about bringing up his problem from earlier. About telling Will the cause of his displeasure. He knew Will was aware of the stress his current case was causing him, and Hannibal chose not to mention it so not to burden the other man with more worry. Not that it ever stopped Will in the past.

Hannibal could never understand how Will managed to fuss over him the way he did. It was unexpected, yet Hannibal found himself relishing in it when ever Will worried over him, asking him if he was all right or if he needed anything. The feeling of being taken care of was something Hannibal knew he would never get enough of, especially if it was Will offering his services.

As important the conversation was, Hannibal couldn't find it in himself to keep Will away from thoughts of sleep. The agent needed all the hours he could get. Instead, he grabbed one of Will's hands, stopping the man's massaging, and pulled him down for a kiss. He drew it out, enjoying he feel of the younger mans mouth over his. His teeth catching the mans lower lip, nibbling a the piece of flesh until Will pulled back.

“I'm going to bed,” Will whispered against his mouth, “Don't work too hard, Doctor.”

Hannibal couldn't stop the predatory smirk that seized his mouth as he watched his lover depart, or the hot flash that sparked across this abdomen. He closed his lap top and placed his files in his brief case, and followed the man upstairs.

Talk of worry could wait another day.

**

He watched as Morgan placed Will on the dining room table, his brown curls resting in a plate, his body slight twisted, like he was unconsciously trying to curl in on himself, as if to hide.

Hannibal breathed deeply through his nose. He was pushing it.

From what he could tell Morgan wasn't there long, most likely caught Will off guard while grading papers.

Hannibal could only assume the other man thought it was an officer coming in to check on him, like they did every night since Jack stationed them there.

Had them stationed there.

 _Maybe at first_ , Hannibal thought, Will's unsent text message flashed across his mind,

_Someone's breaking in, hurry._

So Will, the man with the ever so sharp mind, wasn't quick enough when it counted the most.

_**_

“He's gaining confidence with each kill, but with his anxiety to please, it's making his attempt at perfect almost impossible.” Will sighs, taking his glasses off, and rubbing the palm of his hand into his eyes until blue and purple stars blossomed, “He's over excited. His mind is trapped in a rush and we know he gets off on these killings.” Will ignored the way his stomach twisted when he though about that little fact, seeing a face so like his being used in such a way, “But he's essentially just another run of the mill psychopath. He's killing for someone, he wants the person these are meant for, to see the beauty in which he sees. In his eyes, these are gifts.” Will dropped his hands and sighed, frustration rolling off him in waves. His voice is small when he adds, “I'm just not sure.”

Will looked up at him then, his eyes pleading in a way that, without fail, seemed to make Hannibal weak.

“Will-”

“There's nothing any of us could have done, Han.” Will said with a small smile. Hannibal thought he looked exhausted.

They don't talk about it at dinner, but Hannibal holds his lover tight when the lights are out, and whispers his love into Will's skin, until the other dissolved into nothing.

**

As the two men entered the kitchen, Hannibal took off his jacket and waist coat, draping them along the spare chair in the corner, one that Will usually sat in if he wasn't assisting in making dinner and still wished to talk to Hannibal. Sometimes, he would simply watched the other man work with a grace and practice that always left him a little breathless, “What would you like?” he asked, making his way behind the counter.

“Oo, guests choice!” Morgan exclaimed, humming in approval “ I'm a rather simple man, Hannibal.” Morgan turned and smiled at Hannibal, “Stir fry I'm thinking.” 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow upon hearing the mans request. It was something Will asked for every once in awhile with hope in his voice and a smile on his face. It was a suggestion Hannibal almost always agreed with. It was simple and enjoyable, and Hannibal found out very early on in their relationship that he could deny Will nothing. He even voiced his discovery to Will, the sight of the mans blush only solidified his remark. Will Graham would want for nothing.

It was also something Hannibal enjoyed making with him, watching from his own work as the brunet chopped up various vegetables and talked about his students and his day.

Making dinner with Will was only a once in a while affair, and Hannibal enjoyed every moment of it. Especially when he held the man as he worked, his head fitted into the crook of Wills neck, breathing in the scent of home.

“Will is a simple man too, after all. I think he'd appreciate it.”

Hannibal could have snapped his neck then and there.

When the empath was nothing more than a thing to be toyed with, Hannibal found himself spending a lot of time thinking of all the ways he could serve the man once he was done serving his purpose. Pork loin with Cumberland sauce, or roast veil with spinach and mushrooms. The list of possibility’s were endless. That was, until Hannibal found decidedly more enjoyable ways of fulfilling both their never ending appetites.

Though despite his change of heart, the killer in Hannibal found it appalling that this man who claimed to see how important Will was, was willing to give him a such a mediocre send off.

But he remained quiet and set to work.

 

The gas flared up in a blue haze before simmering down to heat the oil Hannibal splashed inside. He capped the bottle and placed it back where it belonged before moving to the sink and turning the tap on, his gaze on Morgan who busied himself with cutting vegetables.

“Believe me when I say I didn't want to involve poor Will.” Hannibal was quiet as he ran his hand under the hot water, his eyes following the soaps suds down the drain, “But I couldn't help it.” Hannibal dried his hands off and made for the fridge, pulling out the cut of liver he was originally planned for tonight.

“He was just too tempting,” Morgan sighed, “I will admit, I'll miss the object of my affections.”

Hannibal stopped his work, side eyeing the man, “You sound certain that Will is no longer with us.”

Morgan scoffed.

“Really, Hannibal? That boy is as good as dead,” he paused as well, now facing the older of the two, “You'd think a man like you wouldn't hold out hope like that.”

“I do not hope for Will to be alive, because he is alive.”

“I mean come on Hannibal, we're predators you and me, we can't have pretty boys stopping us from showing the world what we can do.” Morgan pointed in the direction of the dining room.

Hannibal almost smiled.

“Judging by your clothing, I believe you know Will is also a predator.”

**

Hannibal felt nothing but content as he flipped through the pages of his book. The words soaking into his skin and finding home in his mind, plastering pictures of lyrical beauty along its walls. He sat at the side of the couch, his fingers playing mindlessly with Will's hair. The agent, seemingly moments away from dosing off, was stretched along the couch, a pillow propped up against Hannibal’s thigh, his head rested on top.

“Han?”

Hannibal made a quiet noise of acknowledgement, but the agent didn't make a move to speak. Hannibal wondered for a moment if he had fallen asleep, but then Will's soft voice filled the air,

“Why me?” His voice was distant, as if he was deep in thought, but his tone held no fight, the sleep threatening to take him took any and all strength away.

“What do you mean?” Hannibal asked though he understood the question. He understood why Will would want to know the reason he was there, lying peacefully in an environment so calm and relaxed, when he should be served to those he works with, being shoved down Jack's throat as Hannibal watched with a knowing smile It was a conversation he didn't think he'd ever be ready for.

Will was silent for a few moments. His eyebrows drawn together. He didn't understand why Hannibal was making this more difficult than it needed to be. His question was straightforward, he knew the man understood. So why was he bent on making Will work for an answer?

“Why did you chose to let me go, and not kill me that night?”

Hannibal closed his book and placed it on the table beside him, an empty glass of wine the only other object there.

“I believe we discussed this the night you came home.”

Will sat up, his voice louder, “When I asked you that night, how do I know you're not lying to me, you said that I don't,” The man voice was laced with exhaustion, sleep covering his words making them more rough. Hannibal had to stop himself from reaching out and pulling Will into his lap, from holding him until his mind went calm and blank with sleep.

“And all has been well and peachy these past few weeks, but I can't deny the fact that I've been walking on pins and needles wondering if _this_ will be the moment you cut my throat out.”

“Despite what you think, Will, you have not been afraid.”

Will's shoulders slumped as he sighed, “No. No I haven't.” he confessed, worrying his bottom lip. He doesn't look at Hannibal, instead, he favours tracing the patterns of the pillow beside him, “Sometimes I think I should be afraid of you, but I can't bring myself to feel that way.” Will looked up and locked his gazes with doctors. Hannibal was always surprised at how intense the action was, even if it was casual or only for a few seconds. He found he was addicted to the way those blue eyes trapped him, keeping him locked and still. It reminded him of how strong Will was, not that he ever forgot.

“The feeling is still there, Hannibal, and I want it to go away. I don't want to feel uncertain anymore.”

**

Morgan laughed, his eyes now downcast, taking in his appearance, “I will admit, Will did go down with a fight.”

Hannibal hummed in response. He walked over to stand next to Morgan, they were close in height he noticed, Hannibal only a few hairs taller, “If you don't mind my asking, how did you find out?” he continued to chopping the vegetables Morgan neglected.

Hm?” Morgan asked, he seemed to be in a daze, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze elsewhere. Hannibal stopped his movements and levelled the man with a stare, one reassuring and calm.

Morgan grinned and said “Oh all right, I snooped, Doctor.”

“Do you really blame me? With a house like this? I mean come on,” Morgan laughed, “And besides, the drawings were right there on your desk. I couldn't resist.”

Hannibal smiled, reaching over and placing a hand on the mans shoulder, squeezing it gently.

He leaned in close until his nose brushed the mans temple and spoke into his ear, “That was very rude of you.”

Morgans smile fell, and Hannibal moved.

He reached up and grabbed the man by the back of the neck, and slammed his face into the cabinets by their heads. Morgan yelled out in surprise only to find himself being dragged over to the stove.

Morgan attempted to move away, but his fate was sealed. Hannibal gripped the back of the mans head and shoved the side of his face into the pan of sizzling oil in front of them. Morgan screamed out, the noise loud and satisfying.

Hannibal kept his grip on the mans face solid and hard, digging the flesh into the pans surface. The satisfaction Hannibal felt was enough to distract from the hot burn of the oil splashing into his hands. Morgan was screaming, though is was slightly muffled by the sizzle of the pan and the hand pressing into his face.

The oil burned into his skin, seeping into his eye and nostril, getting under his skin. The lip of the pan dug into his neck, promising to leave a mark like that of a man who was hung. The pain unbearable.

Morgan managed to claw Hannibal's arms a few times, some scratches deep enough to draw blood, but the sight only made Hannibal push the man down harder into the intense heat.

Hannibal didn't make a sound throughout the time he kept the man under, the air that was once crisp with the sharp smell of oil and fresh from the vegetable, was now tainted with the familiar smell of burning flesh. Usually, the smell was welcoming and familiar, but not now. The once golden like oil now a light pink.

Hannibal watched with disgust as the man still moved around like a fish out of water, trying desperately to break Hannibal's hold, to get away from the oil that was tearing at his delicate flesh.

A moment later, Hannibal allowed him to do just that. Releasing his grip on the man, Hannibal turned around and reached for a knife off the block, he allowed a small smile to come forwards at the tell tale ping it make once out of it's holder.

The man behind him was silent, his breath, which came out in a struggle, stuttering every so often when it got caught in the mans throat, was the only exception.

“Morgan,” Hannibal said, turning to face the intruder. He met eyes with the man, his face set in rage, his face almost unrecognizable. The contortion on his left side was set in red and white lines, small trickles of blood lining the wound and splashing down onto his shirt, adding to the already done damage, blisters decorated around the cooked skin, some broken open and dripping, blending in with the blood.

“You've been awfully rude.” Hannibal was almost disappointed when he walked towards the man and he didn’t move, as if all the fight was drained out of him.

Oh well.

“What do you suppose we do about that?” Hannibal walked around the mans slumped form and grabbed the unburned side if his face pulling his head up. He placed the gleaming blade flush against Morgan's throat, digging in until the man began to whine again. He shushed him and held the knife still.

“What are you waiting for?” the man mumbled out, his voice hoarse from his previous screaming, and Hannibal knew having half his mouth burned to nothing was making speech rather difficult.

“I want you to think about what brought you here, Morgan. Can you do that for me?”

The mans breathing picked up, “Come now Morgan, I know you can.”

A gargled noise erupted from Morgan's throat, after a moment of struggle, one word worked its way past his lips, “Will.”

Hannibal didn't realize he was smiling until he dragged the knife across Morgan's skin, the skin cutting easily under the knifes power, causing a wall of blood to bloom behind the cut. The man's hands flew up to grasp at his neck, gurgling as the blood began falling from his neck and mouth.

“Yes. Will.” Hannibal said, his voice barely a whisper as he dropped the man to the ground, leaving him to die on the cold hard surface.

**

Will's constant stream of words were almost enough to tip him over the edge. Most of the babble was just that, a chant of his name overflowing the tongue of his lover, words of sweetness and love that would make any school girl blush. The words did hold a similar power over the older man, his heart beating fast in pleasure and disbelief, always wondering what he did right to deserve the words being whispered against his skin, and the man attached to them. He held Will close, his slow rhythm driving them both to a state of desperation, their minds tricking them into believing they couldn't get closer than they already are with Will holding onto him for life, dragging his finger tips along Hannibal's spine and arms, his teeth marking along his collar bone and chest. Hannibal felt a hot flash spread along his torso when Will mouthed along the marks and buried his face into the crook of Hannibal's neck, his breath hot against his skin. His body covered the smaller frame, consuming him, hiding him from the rest of the world, his hands held steady onto the younger mans thighs, which gripped tightly around his waist.

When Will gasped against his skin, his teeth nipping at any skin he could find, Hannibal knew he was about to spiral on. He took a hand off of Will's thighs and cupped the mans jaw kissing him hard, Will's gasps getting shorter and louder against his mouth, and soon Will couldn't close his mouth around Hannibal's, his mouth opening up involuntarily to the wave of pleasure building up and sparking along his skin.

“Ha-Han-I-ah-” He breathed out sharply, unable to get his words out. He settled for carding his fingers through the hair along Hannibal's neck, his eyes searching the older mans. Hannibal knew he wouldn't be able to hold on if the empath kept his gaze up. It was something he did more often now and Hannibal found it excited him no matter the situation. It made him surge with pride when the man sought out his eyes when they were in public or simply talking, and in bed, it brought a whole new level of intimacy. Hannibal loved every moment.

Soon, it was his turn to gasp at the rush he felt within himself, Will's small moans adding to the blaze of fire he felt. He took his hand away from Will's face and reach between them to stroke Will's cock, the pace becoming harder and rushed. Both are too far gone for it to matter though, Hannibal had enough time to breathe out Will's name before he filled the younger man, his thrusts long and slow, aiding Will in his own fall.

**

Hannibal all but burst into the dinning room, his eyes immediately going to Will. If it was possible he knew his heart would have shattered right then and there. The pale and still frame of his lover was a sight he never wanted to see.

Quickly walking over, Hannibal leaned over the man and as slowly as he could picked him up and lowered him onto the floor. He began unbuttoning Will's shirt, his mind on edge but his fingers still and fast, “Prisilaikyti.” he found himself saying over and over again. The words of this mother language spilling over his tongue until his words flew together, creating stream of nonsense his mind could just grasp onto.

The worry he had fought back was now bubbling up and taking over his thoughts and actions. Despite his medical background he couldn't help the shock that gripped his heart as he pulled back Will's shirt. Gashes ran down Will's chest, Hannibal pressed two fingers around the wounds, inspecting them as best he could. _Not deep_ , he concluded, but the blood that had dried around them did nothing but send a shiver down Hannibal's spine.

Gently he placed a hand over one the bruises that began to form around the marks. Will winched slightly, his face just twitching enough to make Hannibal's heart leap with relief.

“Oh William,” Hannibal sighed, cupping the mans jaw, his thumb brushing over his lower lip, “You will be the death of me.” and got to work.

**

The nights following the discovery were quiet. Hannibal didn't know when he started to love waking up with the agent sprawled over top him, he didn't know when he started to catalogue every noise Will made, and what those sounds meant, when he became accustomed to the sweet sound of Will's humming as the he graded papers, or when plaid and cheap aftershave reminded him of home. Hannibal didn’t know, and he knew he didn’t care.

For all Will knew, he had just escaped with his life. But what he didn't know, was that he left with what little heart Hannibal had left.

As the seventh night drew to a close, Hannibal entertained the idea of staying awake to meet the next day. But he knew his work would suffer more than it already had. Not noticeable by others, but Hannibal knew. It was in the way he held himself at meetings, how he found himself daydreaming instead of giving his patients his undivided attention they deserved and paid for, and when he sat nursing a scotch, something he rarely drank.

He knew Wills leaving would be hard, but he didn't anticipate his mind acting like a teenager after a break up.

With his last drink finished, he left the study and made his way to the bedroom.

He changed slowly, his mind barely registering any of his movements, making him feel as if he were stuck in slow motion, but eventually he was dressed for bed. Normally, he would have worn a shirt, but after months of forgoing it for the comfort of skin on skin, he couldn't help but leave it out.

He pulled back the covers and slide in, taking notice of how much he didn't enjoy doing this process alone. He wished he could take in the other mans scent, and feel the content that came when Will buried his face into his neck.

With his thoughts filled to the brim of Will, Hannibal fell into an unwilling slumber, just like he had each night before.

 

He didn't know the time when he woke, but when he felt arms around his waist and hesitant fingers tracing patterns on his lower back, all thoughts were banished. Though he momentarily chastised himself for not hearing the intrusion before the man was so close, he wasted no time in pulling the man flush against him, his nose buried into Will's curls.

“Am I making a mistake?” Will asked softly into Hannibal's chest. He wasn't afraid, but could help the electric buzz in his system that came when the other man pulled him close.

Hannibal was quiet for a moment, “Possibly so. You will have to find out for yourself.”

“We need to talk about this.”

“We will, but not now. Rest.”

Hannibal rubbed circles into Will's hips, the younger man seemed to be tense everywhere, but that soon changed when he finally gave up the battle inside himself, and melted into Hannibal's body, snuggling closer.

“The information is hard to process, I'm aware.”

Will snorted.

“But know I care for you deeply.”

“How do I know you're not lying to me?”  
“You don't.” The older man placed a kiss into Will's curls and fell into a peaceful sleep.

 

Hannibal woke the next morning as a peek of sun shone a strip of light across his chest. Breathing deeply he smiled as the body at his side attempted to bury his face further into Hannibal's neck, “Good morning.” he said, his voice soft.

“Shhh.” He could feel Will say something more, but it was lost in his slurred speech.

“I am sorry for the lights intrusion. If you'll allow me to get up, I can close the curtains fully.”

“How and why are you so articulate in the morning?” was the mumbled response.

“I believe we had this discussion already, have we not?” The only response the man received was a short hum in agreement, Hannibal smiled into Will's hair and moved his hands from his lovers waist to his middle, moving an essentially dead-to-the-world Will on top of him.

“Hi.” Will said once he crossed his arms over Hannibal's chest, resting his chin over top, his tired eyes blinking slowly.

“Hi.” the man whispered back before moving up, capturing the lips of his lover and finally having what he believed he lost.

It'd be weeks before either said I love you again

**

“Will.” his voice came out harsher than intended, but that didn't seem to bother the man on the receiving end of the scolding. Will simply started to pout, his lower lip curling out, his eyes wide, full of mock innocence, “Please?”

“No.”

“Aw come on Han, just let me-” the younger man began, once again attempting to swing his legs over Hannibal's thighs, but once again, Hannibal placed a hand on the mans chest and pushed him back down, mindful of his injuries, “I said no, Will.”

Will tilted his head to the side, his look thoughtful,“Is it so wrong of me to want to make out with my boyfriend?”

Hannibal glared. A few weeks had passed since the incident, Morgan's body disposed of. Hannibal had no intentions of dedicating the time and effort that came with preparing a man for dinner. He wasn't even tempted to serve the man to his and Wills colleagues.

Will was coming along beautifully. He had woken up shortly after Hannibal started stitching his wounds. Though he wasn't awake long, he was conscious enough to apologize over and over again. The words never leaving his lips as tears ran down his cheeks. Hannibal had wiped them away, and ignored his own in favour of pressing his lips to Wills.

“You're injured.”

“We'll be careful.”

“When have we ever been careful?”

Hannibal couldn't stop the way his heart jumped when a faint blush spread across Will's cheeks, or how his eyes followed it down his neck until it disappeared behind his shirts collar.

“You're always gentle with me,” Will said as several memories rushed to mind. He let a small smile spread across his lips as his fingers silently drummed on Hannibal's shoulder, working up his neck and jaw.

“It's in the way you hold me at night, and trace patterns into my back until I fall asleep,” Will cupped Hannibal's jaw, “How you guide me through the kitchen, your tone always light, and even though I don't know what I'm doing you still enjoy every minute of it.”

He was torn between asking Will to stop and hiding his face in the mans neck, but he settled for allowing Will to get closer, to tower over him.

“How you whisper words of reassurance and kindness whenever we're close. Letting me know I'm loved and cared for.”

“Mano siela ” Hannibal said, his voice soft.

Will blushed at the words and swung his leg over Hannibal's thigh and settled in the mans lap. His eyes no longer held their playful gleam, they were now serious and pleading, as if he was willing Hannibal to believe his words, “How everyday you look at me like I could vanish at any moment, and you need to remember as much as you can before it's too late.”

“Will-”

“With an intensity so raw and powerful, yet so calm and soothing, I can't help but be left breathless.”

Will kissed him then, his mouth closing around Hannibal's upper lip, fingers immediately going to his hair, tugging slightly. Hannibal responded by pulling Will's waist forward until the man was flush against him. Will breathed in fast at the movement, but he made no effort to move away from Hannibal's grip, his mouth.

They stayed that way for awhile, with Hannibal's hands resting on Will's thighs, and Will's fingers playing with the strands of his hair. Hannibal pulled back, but only enough to put a small space between their lips. Will's face was flushed, his eyes dark, and Hannibal had a feeling he didn't look any different.

“I'm in your lap.”

Hannibal smiled, “Good observation.”

“I thought you said no?” Will couldn't help the grin that was beginning to form.

“And I believe,” Hannibal said, his eyes flickering down to Will's mouth, “I told you I could never deny you anything.”

Will's grin turned into a wide smile, his laughter swallowed up by Hannibal's mouth.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh sweet Jesus I hope that made sense.  
> I went mad writing this, and I had to stop fiddling with it or I'd never post it.  
> Special thanks to Maria for dealing with my hot mess; my writing and I own you so much.
> 
> No beta. All mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Aš tave myliu = I love you  
> Prisilaikyti = Hold on  
> mano siela = My soul  
> (Are those correct? Who knows)


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